


Visual Appeal

by theimpossiblegeekygrrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Married Sex, Masturbation, Sex, Shower Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossiblegeekygrrl/pseuds/theimpossiblegeekygrrl
Summary: He can hear her in the shower. As lovely as she sounds, he imagines she would sound even better with him joining her.  Written for Hermione_Smut, Round 10 on livejournal.





	

Harry opened his eyes the second he heard the shower.  When he rolled over, he fell right into Hermione’s side of the bed.  The sheets were still warm from the heat of her body, and they were fragrant with the heady scent of honeysuckles that clung to her hair.  The scent of sex was there too, musky and sweet, from the night before. 

Idly, he plucked a stray strand of hair from her pillow.  It wasn’t so frizzy anymore, not after years of spells and potions and finally monthly trips to a Muggle hairdresser.  The ends still curled in a sexy spiral that he playfully tweaked whenever she read next to him after dinner, but the hair was now smooth and sleek, as she always wanted it to be. 

_However, when she showered ..._

Harry rose, somewhat reluctantly, leaving that warm and cozy spot.  Her water glass was on the nightstand, and he took a sip to clear the night’s sleep from his mouth.  The flavor of her mouth was there on the rim, and even though he would taste from the source in a moment, he licked that spot, tasting the anise flavor of her monthly potion as well as the bitter flavor of the herbs she took before bed.

“They help with sleep, Harry.  You should take them – I’ve read that they can be quite good for the male digestive tract.”

He never did take them, even though he knew that he ought.  Some nights he still couldn’t sleep well, even though it had been almost ten years since his scar had pained him last.  Voldemort was gone, but the nightmares of his reign stayed with him – stayed with them both.  More nights than not, Harry woke to the sound of Hermione’s screams, her body violently shaking as she clutched her chest.  Reliving the night at the Ministry, usually, though sometimes it was reliving the pain of the days after. 

He’d not known about the almost brutal treatments she’d had to take in order to heal properly.  She’d managed to keep them a secret until after they’d slept together the first time, although he’d had some suspicions during their year on the run.  During the awful time that Ron had left them, when the days sometimes seemed so dim that Harry sometimes wondered if the sun would never return, he would catch her just waking from sleep, still shivering from something other than the cold.  There were a few times, even though he was ashamed of his actions later, that he watched her while she dressed, or caught a glimpse of her while she was coming out of the bath. 

Hermione’s scar was almost heinous then, deep red and as shiny as a freshly minted Galleon.  But the woman around it, Merlin’s beard if he hadn’t hated himself for wanting her when she was his best friend’s girl!

“Harry, is that you?” she called from the bath.

 _Gods above, the woman could hear a pin drop_.  “My Alarm Charm just went off.  I have to give testimony before the Wizengamot today, remember?”

“Of course I do.  Your best work robes are mended and hanging on the far left side of the wardrobe.”

“You’re the best, ‘Mione.  You know that?”

Her soft giggles over the sound of the water let him know that she did. 

 _Thank goodness for that,_ Harry mused as he set down the water glass and donned his glasses.  He and Ron had spent far too many of their teenaged years not treating her right, not even realizing it until they were grown men.  By that time Ron and Lav had reconnected, finally giving Harry the chance to be with the woman who had bewitched him. 

He and Ginny had tried to make a go of it after the war, but in the end they’d realized that the idea of being together was better than the actuality of being together, especially when they’d both realized that they were mad for other people.  Ginny was Mrs. Neville Longbottom now, quite happy as the new Hogwarts Flying Instructor, while her husband apprenticed in Herbology. 

_It was really time for a dinner, come to think of it …_

“Harry, would you mind fetching a flannel for me?  I managed to forget mine, blast it all, and I don’t want to get cold now that I’m all … _wet_ … and soapy.  You know?”

Harry rolled his eyes, even as his cock stiffened at the thought of getting to scrub her back with one of the bright red cloths that she ‘forgot.’  He looked down, seeing that he might need a little cleansing too.  Bright red lipstick still stained his member from tip to base, trailing all the way up to his navel.  Just the memory of her mouth in all the places where her lipstick remained was enough to bring him to full attention, jutting proudly from his body. 

“Did you hear me, love?”

“I’ll be right there,” Harry said.  Stroking himself gently, then more roughly as the scent of her shampoo began to enrich the steam that floated from the slightly ajar door, he flicked his hand at the bed, setting it to rights before he walked into the bathroom.  It was warm inside, and so steamy that the mirrors were already completely fogged.  The desired cloth was on the sink, and he snatched it quickly as he leaned against the counter.

Despite the steam, he could clearly see her.  She must have charmed the glass door with the same spell she used on his spectacles. 

Awkward teenaged years were behind them both, but this was especially true for the woman standing before him.  Hermione at seventeen had been lovely, but now, at almost thirty, she was completely breathtaking.  Breasts were soft and lush against his hands, filling them both to overflowing, topped with caramel colored nipples that felt like heaven in his mouth.  Her waist and hips were deceptively soft – there was firm muscle underneath from their evening jogs.  The tanned legs were lean, and when she wore a skirt he swore that they lasted for days.  And between her legs … every bit of heaven on this earth was there, crowned with dark curls that were neatly trimmed.

Hermione looked up, just as his eyes trailed up to her face.  Her expression let him know that he’d been caught staring again, but the twinkle in Hermione’s eyes also let him know that she didn’t mind a bit. 

“A knut for your thoughts?” she asked, using her hands to spread a milky white foam over her neck and chest. 

Harry licked his lips, watching as her fingers trailed over her breasts.  “Just woolgathering is all.”

“Oh,” she said, biting her lip.  Her hands trailed further down, skimming her navel before resting on her hips.

“Keep going,” Harry said hoarsely.

“Where to?” she asked.

“You know where to.”

“Do I?” She moaned softly, her hips bucking towards him.  “I’m not sure if I do.  In fact, I might need you to come in here and show me.”

He needed no further invitation.  Harry opened the door, stepping into the warm cocoon that Hermione had created in the shower.  Water saturated his hair, covering the lenses of his glasses, which he removed and set on one of the marble shelves. 

“Dirty boy,” Hermione giggled, her fingers lightly skimming the lipstick on his shaft. 

“My wife refused to remove her lipstick before sucking me off last night,” he said, his voice becoming rougher as her hand closed around him, tugging him slightly. 

“Does she like to mark you?  Let the world know that you belong to her?” Her voice was so innocent that Harry would have doubled over in a laugh if she hadn’t started stroking at the same moment. 

“I think she does,” Harry said.  “Occasionally she gets too excited and leaves little love bites all over my thighs.”

“Does she?”  Her other hand moved to where he wanted it to, to the smooth skin at the apex of her thighs.  A tiny, pink nub peaked out from within her folds, and Harry had to fight the urge to fall to his knees and suck it between his lips. 

“She does,” he said, swallowing. 

“Do you ever get ‘too excited’ with her?”

“Sometimes.”  The evidence of his own excitement was on her neck and around her areolas.  Unable to resist, he raised his hand and rubbed his finger over one of the bright pink marks, watching it blanch slightly with the pressure.  It would go away in a few days or even sooner if she used the cream she kept by the bed. 

Harry knew she wouldn’t, though.  Hermione often admitted that during the day, if she got especially lonely for him while she was at work, she would run to the loo and open her robes, looking at each and every love bite he’d made while she masturbated. 

“I think you get very excited, don’t you?”  Her fingers spread her labia, showing off her quim while she continued to stroke his cock.

“I love her, you know?  And I wanted her for a long time before I finally got h-h-her.”  Harry’s voice caught when she squeezed him especially tightly on a downward stroke.  “Every day I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“I bet she does too – feels like the luckiest woman alive,” she sighed.  She’d slipped a finger into her pussy, her hand slowly working it in and out. 

Harry licked his lips, wondering why they felt so dry even though the shower spray was continually wetting them.  “I’d like to show her, if she’d let me.”

Hermione nodded.  “I think she’d like that too.”

A deep groan filled the small space when Harry dropped to his knees.  He didn’t push her fingers away, in fact he grabbed her wrist, making to move them to his own speed. 

“Harry,” she moaned, her free hand now in his hair, pulling his head closer to her core. 

Harry smiled, relaxing just as he always did whenever he was this close to Hermione’s nude body.   He rubbed his nose along her thighs, taking in what he considered her true scent – that fragrance that had nothing to do with the Muggle perfumes she brought home from an afternoon of shopping.   _This_ was her essence: warm, musky, utterly female, and it only got stronger the closer he drifted to the spot where her fingers were sliding in and out of.  He took sly licks whenever they reappeared, taking in the soft and salty flavor that he craved whenever the Ministry sent him on overnights. 

“Harry … please …”

“Please what, my love?” he murmured, pulling her hand from its work and slipping her slick fingers into his mouth.

Hermione lost the ability to speak then, only making a series of guttural cries as he sucked her fingers just like she did his cock.  Lust ripped through Harry’s body, straight to his groin, and even if though he hadn’t thought he could get harder than he’d been when he stepped into the shower, he could feel himself stiffening even more.  Fantasies flashed through his mind, thoughts of what Hermione would look like if they transfigured her clit into a cock, what it would feel like to suck it while gazing into her chocolate brown eyes, if it would hurt the first time she fucked him.   Pre-cum started to ooze from his slit, and his hips bucked slightly as he tried to control his racing thoughts.

“Fuck – oh … please … inside me … please …” Hermione jabbered. 

Harry nodded, knowing that he was going to come on the floor of the shower if he didn’t focus on the present.  Carefully, he stood, turning Hermione around and parting her legs with his, relying on his senses to guide his cock to her entrance.  He knew her body so well now that he could navigate it by memory, and with a few nudges he sank inside of her, pushing until his thighs met her soft backside.

Hermione sighed, arching back against him as he began to thrust, her hips easily catching the rhythm of his until they were both lost in the sound of their hips slapping together.  

“Hard … like steel, Harry … _so good_ … feels so good …”

“So do you,” he whispered, reveling in the heat that surrounded him every time he entered her, missing it the second he withdrew. 

Her orgasm came fast and was so beautiful that he had to see it again.  His hand on her hip moved downwards, easily finding her clit.  He tickled it, flicked it, wishing he could lick and suck it while he fucked her senseless.  When he felt her tighten around him again, heard the high cries that she only made when coming, he let go, this time coming with her.

After, they lay in bed, caressing each other as their hearts slowed and their bodies dried.

“Do you have to go in today?” Hermione asked, her voice very small, like it was when they first met.

“You know I do,” he said, cupping her breast as he kissed her again, his tongue sliding lazily against hers.

“What about tomorrow?  Tomorrow could we just … “ she trailed off, distracted as Harry’s lips moved to her neck, his teeth nipping gently.

“I think we could,” he said, knowing he would move mountains to make it happen.

“Tomorrow then,” Hermione sighed.

“Tomorrow … _then_ …” Harry said, touching her mound.

“Of course, there’s tonight,” Hermione said.  She covered his hand with hers, making it move against her.

“And an hour before I have to Floo in,” Harry said. 

“Do we have time for another shower?”

Harry smiled.  “We have all the time in the world.”


End file.
